


Wish Granted

by whitebeltwriter



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: ...i have no idea why i'm tagging all of this, Because why the hell not?, F/F, and they're not all evil either, but i've yet to come across a fanfic with a djinn that isn't blue and grants wishes, djinn are so much more interesting and complex than that!, djinn!peggy, they're like humans in that some are good some are bad and some just are, we do angels and demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitebeltwriter/pseuds/whitebeltwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Why does it never cease to surprise me to learn that humanity can change so much and yet so little at the same time?’ She mused as She moved between the crowds cluttering the city sidewalks.</p><p>A djinn is summoned, escapes, causes quite a few people misery and runs into one very feisty waitress.</p><p>All in all, it's been an interesting first day back in the human world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Summoning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416381) by [inkvoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkvoices/pseuds/inkvoices). 



> I am by no means an expert on djinn, summoning rituals, or the supernatural in general.  
> As such, I took some creative liberties with some things.  
> But if we're allowed to romanticize angels and demons 6 ways to Sunday (I can feel the demons glaring at my word choice but I refuse to change it) then I see no reason why I cannot do the same with Djinn.  
> They're a bit more interesting then the aforementioned beings anyway in my humble opinion.

_‘Why does it never cease to surprise me to learn that humanity can change so much and yet so little at the same time?’_ She mused as She moved between the crowds cluttering the city sidewalks.

It had been well over a millennia since her last summoning, so naturally she was a bit astonished at how humanity had “improved” its skills concerning architecture, their buildings seeming to touch the sky they were so tall. She hadn’t seen the like since the Tower of Babel and even that was diminutive compared to these behemoths. She decided however that She was not overly fond of the use so much metal; stone was better in that it still felt like Mother Earth long after it had been mined, like an echo of its origin, bringing comfort and familiarity.

 _‘Then again,’_ She thought, taking in the sights around her, _‘I suppose I should be grateful to be able to see this world again at all. Though I think I’d have preferred slightly different circumstances.’_

Long ago most of her kind, Djinn, were banished to an alternate reality- _‘Thanks Solomon,’_ She groused -and could only come back if they were summoned. Summoning was rather tricky and required certain steps to be taken in order to ensure that the summoned Djinn in question did not, oh say, burn the flesh off their summoner for daring to think that a Djinn would willingly be their slave. Not that She had ever done that; sure She had been known to burn off clothes, and worse if truly peeved, but usually She just tried to get the whole humiliating thing over and done with as quickly as possible (and if She took her “master’s” words too literally, well that’s hardly her fault now is it?).

Summoning had become a somewhat rare thing in the past few centuries-She can’t even quite remember the last time She had heard of someone being summoned-and She supposed that the result of that is that today’s humans have even less idea about Djinn than they did a thousand years ago.

Take the one who summoned her today for instance. What the smuck was trying to accomplish was beyond her, but evidently he found her name in some old text and decided to give it a try for a hoot. Which, in and of it self, was annoying, but what was worse about the whole thing is that _apparently_ the man-Thompson, She thinks-was under the impression that because she was a _female_ Djinn that she would be a weak docile little thing, willing to do anything and everything he said.

But She supposes she should thank him; his underestimation of her lead to him making what was already a flimsy summoning circle even more useless by not putting the characters in place that would have held a Si’lat of her caliber. She broke through it seconds after learning what he planned for her-could have done so sooner but was curious to see who had summoned her. He had barely begun a litany of household chores when She snapped.

The girly scream he’d let out as She torched his hair was _oh_ so satisfying.

So now She’s here: wandering about this strange new city, this strange new world: unchained from any sort of master and free to do as she pleased.

Just the thought of the fun she could have made a mischievous smile curl her lips.

She’s passing by the opening of an alley when some voices from within it cause her to pause in her steps.

“…Come on, sweetheart! Ditch the apron and let us show ya what a real good time looks like,” a male voice tried to coo but instead wound up sounding just plain greasy.

“Thanks but, no thanks,” another voice answered, female this time. “I had plenty of ‘good times’ and they sure as heck didn’t involve the likes of you bums.”

 _‘Heh heh, nice to learn that human women haven’t lost their backbone yet,’_ She chuckled.

She was about to move on when a third voice, another man, entered their opinion.

“Look sugar, I don’t think that pretty little head of yours is grasping what we’re saying. We’re not asking you to come with us-“

“-We’re telling you,” chimed the first.

“So come along quietly like a good little girl-“

“Or you’ll get slapped like a bad one.”

The Djinni could feel her knuckles crack as she curled her fingers into fists.

_‘Oh no. This will not do **at all!** ’_

* * *

 

“Angela Martinelli, one of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you into a world of trouble!”

Angie could practically hear her mother’s words in her ears right as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum cornered her in the alleyway behind the automat.

The pair of them had been standing at the mouth of the alley when she came out to dump a trash bag, but _evidently_ where casting directors thought she didn’t have the face they were looking for, these “gentlemen” thought she looked just _dandy_.

Hence them getting into her personal space, spouting off pick-up lines like they were going out of style.

Up until now she had been grumpy: Angie had been on her feet all day since coming in from her third bust audition of the week.

When they started talking to her, she had been annoyed.

When they kept talking after she clearly wanted nothing to do with them, she got pissed.

But now that they were cornering her with lecherous grins on their faces, all she felt was scared. Angie was by no means weak (living with four older brothers and having a plethora of male cousins left zero room for weakness) but these stooges looked like ex-army types: and _not_ the kind that were honorably discharged.

And they were currently standing between her and the automat’s door.

Angie was just debating on whether she was fast enough to make it out of the other end of the alley before they caught her when a voice from behind them called out-

“Are you two really so pathetic that you need to actually kidnap women in order to get them to be with you,” a woman with a English accent and brown curls sneered from the mouth of the alley, causing both men to snap around to her. “Oh-never mind; I can see the answer from the horrid lumps of flesh you call faces.”

 _‘What the hell was she doing?!’_ Angie thought in a panic; the men were easily half a foot taller than her, at least.

“The hell did you say bitch?!”

“I said you two were pathetic and ugly. And evidently also hard of hearing,” she countered calmly.

One of the stooges began to stalk towards her, cussing all the while.

“I’m going to slap some manners into you, you slutty little gaAAH!” he cut off as the woman darted forward and around him, twisting his arm up and behind his back the moment he was in range.

“ _I’m_ not the one in need of manners, you waste of flesh,” the brunette declared, still as cool as a cucumber, while Angie and Goon #2 looked on in shock.

“Though I dare say that I could do with a bit of a tussle. It’s been a while since I’ve gone against humans; try to at least make it fun, won’t you?”

With that the woman spun back around towards the audience of two, sending the ruffian careening into his friend, knocking both over into a heap. All the while Angie simply stood there with her mouth agape, her head swinging back and forth between the men and the woman like she was watching a tennis match.

Finally righting themselves, the boys growled, “You’re gonna pay for that you bitch!” and simultaneously charged at the woman, fists raised.

They never touched her.

The same, however, could not be said for the woman.

She met her opponents head on: literally! She grabbed the first one by his collar and smashed her head against his nose, leaving it bloody when she pulled away.

Before his friend even realized what had happened, she had turned her attentions on him, her fist swinging out in an arc that caught him square in the jaw and sent him sprawling onto the ground. She’d kicked the legs out from under the other one before the first had even hit the floor; the two managing to fall in such a way that their skulls clacked together, knocking them both out cold.

The waitress stood and watched the whole affair, completely gob smacked. And also a bit confused.

 _‘I’m taking out the trash,’_ Angie ponders to herself, trying to comprehend what just happened, _‘I get harassed by a couple of lowlifes. A gorgeous dame with an English accent appears out of freakin’ nowhere. She tells them off. Proceeds to beat the tar out of them. And now she’s-?!’_

“Are you pouting?”

* * *

 

She had been, in fact, but really She had every right to be. Her specialty, and the purpose She was once often summoned for, was war and combat. There had been a time when whole armies had frozen at her appearance on the battlefield, and for good reason; her strategies alone were terrifying enough to send many a general skittering away in retreat; never mind her actual combat prowess.

So to say she was more than a bit disappointed in the lackluster fight (and She uses that word _very_ lightly) these two goons had provided would be the understatement of her millennia.

But like hell She’s going to readily admit that to a mere human. No matter how attractive they are.

“Course not. That would suggest I had high hopes for these imbeciles putting up a good fight,” She sniffed.

“They’ve both got at least 100 pounds on you!” the girl nearly shrieked though there was the beginnings of a smile dancing about her lips.

“And yet they’re the ones taking a nap at my feet. Your concern is appreciated, really, but very unnecessary; you don’t get to be my age without learning a skill or two.”

The girl-“Angie” the small plaque on her chest read- tilted her head in a way very reminiscent of a puppy and said, “You don’t look that much older than me, English, and I sure can’t do anything like that!” she gestured to the piled up goons at her feet.

“Looks can be _very_ deceiving,” She replied with a roguish grin.

Turning back towards the street, She was fully content on walking away and leaving it at that when Angie called out to her again.

“Wait a minute! You’re gonna just cut and run without even letting me give you a proper thanks? You probably just saved my life!”

Still walking, the brunette simply waved her hand over a shoulder, not even bothering to turn around, and responded, “No thanks are necessary. I needed the exercise anyway-poor as it was. Just call whatever guards this city has and have them haul idiots one and two away.”

Angie gnawed on her lip; she couldn’t put her finger on it but there was something about this woman-something extraordinary and even more amazing then what the waitress had just witnessed-and damn it if she wasn’t going to find out what it was!

“How ‘bout some pie on the house!”

The dark haired woman stopped dead in her tracks.

Slowly She turned to face the waitress.

“…What kind of pies?”


	2. What's in a name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked, so I delivered. Here's another chapter of my Djinn!verse.  
> And for those who are interested, "Djinn" (at least how I say it) is pronounced like "gin" as in "gin and tonic", and "Djinni" is pronounced "genie".  
> Yes, genie like Robin Williams's (may he rest in peace) character from Aladdin.  
> No, Peggy is not that kind of genie (the difference of which I will have explained as part of a future scene).

_‘…Maybe I shouldn’t have said they were on the house,’_ Angie thought as she watched the woman-whose name she _still_ didn’t know- work her way through another slice of pie. 

Her **sixth** slice, to be exact.

Angie came from a large family and therefore had been the witness to many a messy meal but it wasn’t something she usually witnessed outside of her home. Even the most uncouth of customers had some sort of decorum about them.

But this lady-and she was definitely a lady if the waitress had ever seen one: all witty words and smooth accent- _this lady_ was eating like she hadn’t seen food in decades. And yet somehow she managed to look absolutely adorable while she did it.

She’d shovel enough food into her mouth that at least one cheek bulged like she was a curly haired chipmunk before swallowing and repeating the process; through it all managing not to get a single speck anywhere on her outfit or cheeks.

Shaking off her amazement, Angie asked, “So are you ever gonna introduce yourself or will I have to settle for calling you ‘English’, English?”

* * *

She looked up from her pie-which, while made in a way that was different from her time, was still very delicious-and took in the “waitress” standing before the “booth” where She sat. _‘So many new things to learn,’_ She mused distractedly as She pondered the shorter brunette’s question. 

The last time She had been on earth, humans were knowledgeable enough about Djinn (but still ignorant enough) to hardly be friends with one offhandedly.

Judging by what She has seen of the world today so far, it seems that knowledge has dwindled even more than She’d thought: even the man who had summoned her only succeeded because the book he possessed had step-by-step instructions even a child could have followed. Which he _still_ managed to foul up, to her great fortune.

_‘Still,’_ She decided as she continued to chew her latest mouthful of pie, _‘Best to play it safe until I know for certain how humans these days feel about Djinn. But what to do about my name…’_

She had a name, of course, but like all Djinn She preferred it not to be easily known to humans: it was how they were able to summon and control them in the first place and She was very much _done_ with all that nonsense.

Before She came up with anything though She found a hand being offered to her by Angie.

“Suppose it’s only polite I go first. I’m Angela Martinelli but everyone besides my ma calls me Angie,” she said with a smile that seemed to light the place up.

After only a moment’s hesitation She took the hand and moved hers up and down as She’d seen others do previously in her meanderings about the city, presuming it was how humans greeted each other nowadays.

“Pleasure to meet you Angie, I’m…uh…” 

…

She froze.

She _never_ froze.

She had been all set to give a false name, had even come up with a reasonable one based off the ones She’d overheard so far, but when She opened her mouth She simply blanked; her mind stuttering to a halt without so much as a single warning. That in and of itself was annoying: She prided herself on her intellect just as much as her physical prowess, if not more so. She’d never had this much trouble finding her words before. Except for that one time…

And to make matters worse, She had been silent long enough that Angie, after glancing at their still conjoined hands, tilted her head and asked with a bemused smirk, “You alright there, English? Cat got your tongue?”

Snapping out of her ruminations, She suddenly recalled _exactly_ what had caused her floundering last time. And more importantly, what the two times had in common.

_‘Oh dear.’_

* * *

_‘Well if that isn’t a face that says, “I-am-in-trouble”, I don’t know what is,’_ Angie thought as several emotions fluttered over the older woman’s face at once. Puzzlement, annoyance, puzzlement again, chagrin, and surprise all made themselves known in the space of a few seconds before the brunette’s face seemed to settle on what Angie could only refer to as “dumbstruck”. 

_‘Angie, you have once again found yourself getting mixed up in something that may or may not be bad news for you. Swell.’_

In her defense, Angie did not go looking for trouble. Usually. Most of the time.

But the waitress lived in a somewhat tough neighborhood and had been the witness to many a person making the exact same face the English lady was making right now.

It was a face that spoke of trouble and if Angie had any sense she would politely excuse herself and allow the dame to walk out of her life as quickly as she had walked in.

Too bad the members of the Martinelli clan tended to be lacking in this particular aspect.

Glancing around to be sure that the rest of her section was content, Angie plopped down across from her savior and folded her arms on the table, trying to act the picture of serous and sincere.

_‘Gotta be delicate about this,’_ she thought as the older brunette continued to look at her stunned, _‘Don’t wanna spook her.’_

“You in some kind of trouble, English?”

She internally winced. _‘Smooth, Martinelli, **real** smooth.’_

Still, the question seemed to snap the other woman out of whatever stupor she’d been in as she cleared her throat and changed her face to one of nonchalance.

“No, not particularly. What makes you say that?” English replied coolly, though Angie still managed to see through her act.

“Honey, I’m a waitress, and besides being an expert at moving food from one place to another, I am also very good at spotting when someone is trying to hide for whatever reason. Usually when a lady is reluctant to give her name, it means she’s afraid someone is gonna find her. Am I wrong?”

English made this _adorable_ scrunched up face and responded, “Not…entirely.”

Angie nodded, “Didn’t think so. I take it I also not wrong in assuming it involves a fella you’d rather not see again?”

“…Correct,” the woman sighed resignedly.

The waitress smirked, “That’s all I need to know. You obviously don’t what to talk about it and unlike some people I can think of, I don’t feel the need to completely stick my nose into your business right off the bat.”

English blinked before giving Angie a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat.

“Thank you, Angie.”

_‘Hoo boy, that is one megawatt smile. Girl could really lose her head if she got that flashed her way every day.’_

Shaking her head to refocus, Angie continued, “Not a prob, English. But we still gotta do something about a name for you; can’t just keep calling you English, no matter how posh it sounds.”

“Alright, then why don’t you picked something,” the older woman said almost daringly, leaning forward and mirroring Angie’s crossed arms on the table.

“Oh you are gonna regret that, English,” the waitress remarked, her eyes squinting mischievously.

* * *

_‘Oh I already am; what the bloody hell am I doing?’_ She thought as Angie leaned back and looked to the ceiling as if for inspiration. 

No matter how She looked at it, becoming overly friendly with this human was a disaster waiting to happen. The woman obviously had a very keen sense of observation; how else would she be able to infer that She was attempting to avoid the man who had summoned her.

Then again she could have simply been guessing. It is not so outrageous to think that even after all these centuries human women still had problems with their male counterparts not giving them the peace they deserved.

Case in point: She met Angie in exactly such a situation.

Should they develop a closer relationship, the waitress may discover her acquaintance’s true identity before she’s ready, which undoubtedly will lead to trouble for the Djinni.

On the other hand, She needs to learn more about this world and how it’s changed in the past millennia; her observations will only get her so far, so fast.

While weighing the pro and cons of either decision, She allowed her eyes to rove over Angie’s features. The younger woman was still deep in her own thoughts, and evidently doing so caused her face to twitch and scrunch into the most endearing of expressions.

_‘She is indeed very pleasing to the eye. And I **do** need a companion if I am to navigate this world safely, even if it would only be temporary,’_ She mused before nodding decisively to herself and returning to her pie. She had come to a decision.

And with any luck She would not regret it.

* * *

_‘Need a name, need a name,’_ Angie chanted over and over to herself as she tried to pick out a posh one for the posh lady sitting before her. 

_‘Okay, maybe not **too** posh of a name, since said lady did just demolish six slices of pie and looks game for more.’_

Tapping her fingers against her arm, the waitress glanced about the automat, trying to find inspiration for her quest.

_‘Rose? Too flowery. Elizabeth? Nah, though she does feel like a queen. Hayley? Mm, close but not quite.’_

A rustling sound to her left brought to her attention an older man sitting at the table next to theirs reading a newspaper.

Angie was about to move on when something on the back of the paper caught her eye.

It was an advertisement for some product or other, featuring a woman with curls like the one seated across from her, with a bubble next to her head declaring

 

“Peggy says Stark Industries technology makes life easy.

Do as Peggy says: Buy the future today!”

 

The slogan was kinda cheesy but the name…

“…Peggy…” Angie said aloud, trying it out.

“Pardon?” English asked, finishing off the remains of her desert.

The waitress’ face split into a grin as she turned to the older brunette and declared,

“English, your name is Peggy!”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that.  
> I originally intended this to be a one-shot, but if enough of you are interested I may expand it a bit.  
> Nothing fancy; just the occasional chapter showing a Djinn trying to figure out the "wonders" of the modern world with the help of a feisty aspiring Broadway actress.  
> Thoughts?  
> If not then thanks for reading anyway!


End file.
